Never Touch The Ground
by flowerrrs25
Summary: Austin finds Ally after she's lost everything. AU. Auslly.
1. i remember life before

Disclaimer: Austin and Ally is not mine.

A/N: This story is AU. Austin and Ally haven't met, and Ally's a bit broken when he meets her (you'll see). It starts at Christmas but it's not really going to be a Christmas fic. I hope you guys like it, it's quite a bit different than anything I've attempted before. Blame Nada, it was her idea. :P

* * *

She hasn't slept through the night once in twenty-six months.

She's had the same dream every night for the past twenty-six months.

She hadn't actually been there but she can see it.

Her son. Her husband. A haze of smoke and the screech of tires and a blaze of red, orange, yellow, burningburning_burning_ until everything she ever loved was lost.

Tonight is no exception. She bolts upright in bed, covered in sweat, and she hasn't cried in three weeks but she does now because the smoke was especially dark and the screams were especially loud and she just _can't_ anymore.

She collapses on the bed and tightly grips the pillow next to her and presses it to her face, trying to smell him, but he hasn't been there for over two years. And that makes her sob harder, until she can't see and she's exhausted.

"What am I supposed to do?" she whispers, over and over and over. "You left me. You both left me."

Ally doesn't go back to sleep.

* * *

"Hey, Ally!"

Ally turns around and grins. "Hi, Trish! It's been two months!"

She hugs her best friend and steps back. "You look great!"

Trish smiles. "New York is just where I belong, you know?"

"I can tell," she says kindly. "Come on, I can close up for lunch and we can go catch up."

Sonic Boom is hers now. Her dad had retired years ago and she'd taken over. She loves it there, loves teaching music lessons, and loves being surrounded by instruments. She'd even sold three songs to a major record label, although she hasn't been doing any writing since…since the accident.

She and Trish wander over to the food court, for old times' sake, and Ally listens to her best friend tell her about an amazing new guy she just started seeing and her exciting new job and how she's having the time of her life in a brand new city.

"How are you, Ally?" Trish asks quietly.

"I'm good, Trish," she says, but her voice is a little too perky and her smile just a little too bright.

"Ally…"

"I'm okay," she says firmly. "It's been a little over two years. I'm doing better."

Trish frowns. "You don't have to hide, Ally," she says. "You can't keep it all inside."

"I'm not hiding."

Trish hesitates. "Ally, look, you've been saying you're 'fine' since a _week_ after the…accident. And you've been acting like nothing happened. And it's been tearing you apart for two years, we can all see it."

Ally narrows her eyes. "What do you mean I've been acting like _nothing_ happened? Just because I'm not crying and moping around doesn't mean I don't think about it every single_ minute_."

"You never let yourself grieve," Trish says softly. "You never dealt with it. You went straight back to work and didn't talk to anyone and we're all worried about you."

"Yeah, well, because you all know how it feels to lose a husband and a son, please, Trish, tell me how I should be _dealing with it_," she says sarcastically, her eyes blazing. "None of you know what I went through, what I'm still going through, so maybe you should just leave me alone."

Trish looks hurt. "Ally, I'm not—"

"I can't do this right now," Ally says, standing up abruptly. "Can we just talk later? I'm glad you're back for the week."

"I—yeah," Trish says, her voice defeated. "Bye, Ally."

But Ally's already too far away to hear.

* * *

Sometimes, Ally finds herself wondering if she'll ever feel normal again, and then she immediately feels guilty for even imagining _normal_.

Because normal was spending lazy days with a picnic at the park cloud watching with her two year old son and talking about books and making homemade pickles with her husband.

It was writing songs and playing the piano for fun and singing lullabies about butterflies and watching silent French films cuddled up on a couch.

It was a normal that was quiet and perfect and romantic and planned and everything she had ever wanted and she had _loved_ it.

And she'll never get that normal again.

* * *

"Excuse me, how much is—oh, _shit_!"

Ally looks up with wide eyes as half of her drum display comes crashing down, crashes and booms and clangs filling the previously quiet space.

She looks up from where she had been cataloguing her inventory to see a tall, blond guy who she guesses is probably around her age, standing there, surrounded by drums at his feet with his mouth open, a lone cymbal in his hand.

He notices her looking at him. "Please don't tell me you have a you-break-it-you-buy-it policy," he pleads.

"How did—why did—I don't think I even wanna know how you managed to do that," Ally stutters, once she recovers. She raises an eyebrow. "And of course that's the policy."

He groans dramatically. "Damn it."

She can't help but giggle at the look on his face and he sighs forlornly at her as she walks around the counter to survey the disaster zone.

"I don't think any of them are actually damaged," she concludes after a few minutes of thorough inspection. She turns to him after she puts the last one back on display. "You got lucky. You picked some of the most expensive ones to knock over."

He pumps his fist. "Yes!" he exclaims. "But can I actually buy this cymbal now?"

Ally looks at him warily. "Are you sure you know how to use it?"

He frowns indignantly. "Of course. I'm an awesome drummer."

She gives him a disbelieving look. "If you say so."

"I am! Here, I'll prove—"

Ally reaches out and grabs his wrists before he can cause any more damage, ignoring the light shiver that runs up her spine. It must be static electricity or something. "I believe you."

He narrows his eyes at her and she releases his wrists. "You totally do _not_ believe me."

"…Do I have to believe you to sell you the cymbal?"

He looks stumped. "I guess not," he says, obviously disappointed. "But you should know that I can play anything. I'm the best at drums and guitar but I can even play the trumpet. Through another trumpet."

She furrows her brow. "That sounds just crazy enough for me to think you didn't make it up."

"Yes!" he cheers. "Where's your brass section, I can—"

She laughs nervously. "Um, I actually have to close up soon! For um…for…Christmas Eve Eve!"

"You know that's not a thing, right?" he says, raising an eyebrow. She opens her mouth to respond. "But I can take a hint, don't worry," he continues, grinning.

He walks with her to the register and digs for his wallet while she wraps up the instrument.

"So, do you own this place?" he asks, leaning both hands against the counter after he gives her a credit card.

She nods as she rings him up. "Yeah. My dad used to, but he retired so I took over. Why do you ask?"

He grins. "You're just really lucky. Surrounded by instruments all day? Man, I wish I could do that."

Ally looks at him curiously. "But this is a pretty expensive cymbal. Isn't that a pretty big investment if music's just a hobby for you?"

"I'm kinda between being a nobody and a kind of maybe somebody right now," he says, sighing.

She tilts her head. "How does that work?"

"It works like you-technically-have-a-recording-contract-but-the-label's-lost-interest-in-you-at-the-moment," he says, rolling his eyes. "Basically, I got signed about six months ago but nothing's happened since then. So I'm trying to get a bunch of songs ready for when they finally decide they want to remember I exist. I mean, the clock's ticking- not a lot of people get their big break at thirty-one, you know?"

So he _was_ her age.

"That sucks," she says sympathetically. "What about another label?"

"No dice," he says, shaking his head. "Thirty-one, remember? No way another label's gonna take a chance on me. It was hard enough getting this one to sign me."

She hands him the bag with the cymbal and his receipt. "Well, good luck," she says. "Maybe I'll hear you on the radio one day."

He grins as he accepts the items, and she feels _something_ again when his fingers brush against hers. Definitely static electricity. "Oh, you definitely will," he squints at her nametag. "—_Ally_. I'm Austin. Austin Moon. Don't forget that name."

"Great, now I can put a name to the face of the guy that almost destroyed my drum collection?" she teases. "Thank you, _Austin_."

He laughs. "Well, at least you'll be able to say you had a once in a lifetime encounter with the one and only Austin Moon."

Ally rolls her eyes. "Yay me," she deadpans.

Austin winks at her before turning around to leave and she laughs despite herself, shaking her head as she turns back to her inventory spreadsheet.

And then she freezes as she comes to the realization that during those fifteen minutes with Austin, the first fifteen minutes in twenty-four months and sixteen days and thirteen hours and two minutes, she hadn't thought even once about…_it_.

* * *

That night, she doesn't have the dream.

* * *

So that's the start. I think it'll be a pretty slow build up and the updates miiight be kind of slow too (sorry), but I will do my absolute best. Please review, I'd love to see what you think!


	2. then you came, then you came

Disclaimer: Austin and Ally isn't mine.

A/N: Sorry for how long it took to update but I kind of can't promise it'll be much faster. :/

* * *

"There was something about her, Dez," Austin sighs, dramatically throwing his arm over his face as he sprawls out on the couch. "I can't even explain it."

Dez nods thoughtfully from his position on the chair across from him. "Tell the Love Whisperer everything, buddy."

"For the thousandth time, no one calls you that," he says flatly.

"Everyone calls me that."

Austin rolls his eyes but humors his best friend anyway. "Her name's Ally. She owns Sonic Boom. She's so pretty, and she has these eyes and she's tiny and—" he cuts himself off, reddening a little after seeing the amused look on Dez's face. He clears his throat. "And funny, and I can tell she loves music."

Dez nods. "Why didn't you ask her out then? You're not usually shy around girls."

He hesitates. "I got this vibe from her. From her eyes. I don't know how to describe it. Like…like she was sad?"

"Sad?"

Austin nods and stares blankly at the ceiling. "Sad."

* * *

On Christmas day, Ally stays curled up in bed all morning because the images of opening presents from Santa and playing with new toys, and the tree brightly lit up in the corner of the living room are too much to bear. She doesn't cry like she had the past two Christmases, but she feels numb, her mind empty, and she stares off into space until her cell phone rings at one o'clock in the afternoon.

"Hello?" she says, clearing her throat.

"Merry Christmas, sweetie," her dad says softly. "Are you still going to come over this afternoon?"

She takes a deep breath. "Hi Dad, Merry Christmas. Uh, yeah, I'll be there. Three o'clock, right?"

"Right." He pauses. "You okay, Ally?"

She suddenly feels her eyes prickle at the concerned tone of her father's voice but manages to keep herself calm long enough to answer, "Yeah, dad, I'll see you soon."

As soon as she hangs up, she tightly presses her palms to her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. This is the first Christmas since the accident that she's not spending alone and she had promised her dad that she'd have dinner with him.

She gets ready almost robotically, trying to keep her mind from drifting to thoughts of the past. But trying not to think about it inevitably makes her think about it more and she finds herself blinking back tears as she drives to her father's house.

She sits for a moment in the driveway, her head in her hands, and then she shakes her head and puts a smile on her face for her dad.

"Merry Christmas, Ally!"

Ally steps forward and hugs him, lingering a little longer than usual in his arms.

"Merry Christmas, Dad," she mumbles.

He smiles warmly at her when she pulls back. "Before you sit down, could you do me a favor? I ran out of sugar, of all things, and I need it to finish the pie. That little grocery store by the beach is open, I think."

She nods. At least it'll be a distraction. "Sure, no problem. Be back in a few."

* * *

"Whoa, I'm sor—Ally?"

She looks up in surprise at the person who ran into her. "Oh, hi, uh…Austin, right?"

He grins and nods. "I promise I'm not usually this klutzy," he says. "And oh, Merry Christmas!"

She smiles at him and he decides right then and there that his goal is to keep that smile on her face for the rest of his life. Because he's not exactly sure what it is about this girl, but he knows that there's _something_ that's drawing him to her and all he wants to do is find out exactly what it is.

"So what are you doing here on Christmas, anyway?"

"My mom ran out of flour. How about you?"

"Dad ran out of sugar," she says, laughing a little. "Well, I guess I'll see you around?"

Ally starts to turn away and he says it before he can stop himself. "Do you want to maybe get coffee sometime?" he blurts out.

He watches as she freezes, as her eyes widen in surprise and she visibly swallows. She shakes her head. "I…I can't," she says after a moment, and her breath hitches a bit. "I…you're really nice, but I just…can't."

Austin nods even as he feels his heart sink. "Hey, it's okay," he says softly, because she looks upset and the last thing he wants is to ruin her Christmas. "I didn't mean to freak you out. I just thought…since you like music and I like music, we could maybe be…friends?"

Her eyes dart up to meet his. "Friends?" she mumbles.

He smiles. "Friends."

She hesitates. "That'd…that'd maybe be okay. It's just that I'm—"

"You don't have to explain anything," he interrupts. "Can I see your phone?"

She hands it to him and he programs in his number and he totally ignores the sparks he feels when their fingers brush when he gives it back to her. "There," he says quietly. "This way, you can call me. It's up to you, okay? No pressure."

Ally stares at him for a moment, biting her lip, wide eyed and maybe a little bit confused at his forwardness, but she gives him a small smile after a moment. He smiles back. "I'll see you, Ally," he says, turning to walk away.

He's almost out of earshot when he hears a faint, "Merry Christmas, Austin," from behind him and he grins so widely and so suddenly the old lady in front of him gives him a startled look.

Austin forgets the flour.

* * *

Ally thinks about Austin occasionally for a couple of weeks, but aside from occasionally seeing _Austin Moon_ at the top of her contacts list, she's too busy with the store as people either purchase new instruments to fulfill their new year's resolutions or return unwanted Christmas presents to do anything further.

She's been asked out a couple of times since the accident but she's managed to brush off the attempts fairly easily. But she can't really recall a time when someone asked her to be _friends_ and she's thrown off by it.

She's staring at his name, trying to figure out what to make of _Austin Moon_ when her phone suddenly rings, a picture of her best friend lighting up the screen.

"Hi Trish!" she greets, any tension between them long since diffused since her visit.

"Hey, Ally. I just wanted to see how you were."

She sighs. "Busy, you know how it is at the start of the year. How about you?"

"Work is a little crazy, but nothing too terrible. Anything new going on?"

She hesitates, unsure whether or not to tell Trish about Austin. "Um…I might have made a…friend?" she says.

"A friend?" Trish asks, her voice confused. "Who is she?"

"It's a he," Ally corrects. "His name is Austin and he came into the store a few weeks ago and ruined my drum display. And then I ran into him on Christmas and he asked me out, I think, and I said no but then he asked if I wanted to be his friend."

"Do you like him?" Trish asks carefully.

"He's really nice," Ally says neutrally. "And he likes music."

"But do you like him, Ally?"

"Yeah, I think so," she whispers after a long moment. "He seems…different. But not like that. I'm…I'm allowed to feel lonely, right?"

"Oh, Ally," Trish sighs. "You are allowed to feel lonely and you are allowed to do something about it. Do you have his number?"

"But I don't want to give him the wrong idea," Ally says worriedly. "And yeah, he gave it to me. He doesn't have mine, though. He said that way I could call him without any pressure."

"If he already did that, I don't think he has the wrong idea, Ally," Trish says. "You're awesome, why wouldn't he want to be your friend?"

She laughs a little. "Thanks, Trish."

"Call him, Ally," she encourages. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"He could turn out to be a serial killer, or he could hate pickles or—"

"Ally," she interrupts. "Take a chance."

'_And break down the walls_,' she thinks, before she can even stop herself. Lyrics.

She grabs her songbook from underneath the counter and scribbles it down. "Okay, Trish," she says, staring thoughtfully at the first words she's written in her book in over two years. "Okay."

* * *

He's half asleep when his phone rings, one leg dangling off the couch and his arms folded behind his head. He had been in the middle of attempting to write a song but the lack of inspiration in addition to the softness of his couch had made that task slightly difficult.

He fumbles around for the vibrating object on the coffee table before hauling himself up to a seated position, looking confusedly at the unknown ID.

"Hello?" he answers.

"Um…is this Austin?" The voice is soft, feminine, and he immediately perks up.

"Speaking."

"This is Ally? From Sonic Boom? And from um, Christmas?"

He grins so widely his jaw hurts for a second. "Hi, Ally," he replies. "How are you?"

"Good," she answers. "I…I don't know if this is weird, but you said that we could maybe be friends?" she asks, her voice hesitant. "I guess I haven't really made a new friend in a long time." She laughs a little.

"I'd still like that," he answers. "And it's okay if it's a little weird."

She laughs again and he feels himself fall just a little bit further. "So…I don't really like coffee, but what are your thoughts on ice cream?"

"I love ice cream." He pauses. "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"I _hate_ coffee."

"Then why'd you ask if I wanted to get some?"

He shrugs before he remembers that she can't see him. "Most women like it."

He hears her suck in a breath. "I'm…I'm not really like most women."

Austin has a feeling she's talking about something deeper but this isn't the time to find out. "Well, of course you're not," he replies cheekily. "You hate coffee. So how about tomorrow?"

She breathes a laugh and agrees to meet him at the ice cream shop at the mall once she's done with work.

"I'm really glad you called, Ally," he says quickly. "See you tomorrow."

There's a pause. "Me too," she whispers finally. "Bye, Austin."

* * *

Reviews would be amazing.


End file.
